


Night to Remember

by Lissadiane



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drinking, I've never written fluff before, Karaoke, M/M, WinterHawk Bingo, is this fluff?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22991707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lissadiane/pseuds/Lissadiane
Summary: Bucky’s not sure what song this is. He missed huge chunks of pop culture in the 80s and 90s. Apparently Bryan Adams’ discography was not important information for a brainwashed assassin.But Clint’s got his hip cocked and his eyes shining and Bucky never gave a fuck about Bryan Adams, but he thinks maybe, now’s a good time to start.In which the Avengers have a karaoke night and a certain Hawkeye has a bit too much to drink and forgets some key details.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 35
Kudos: 349
Collections: Winterhawk Bingo





	Night to Remember

**Author's Note:**

> This little fic is written for two purposes:
> 
> 1) CB asked for something soft.  
> 2) I HAVE A WINTERHAWK BINGO CARD and the deadline is in 29 days and I haven't written a SINGLE SQUARE. Until now. THIS OFFICIALLY FILLS THE BRIDAL CARRY SQUARE. It's a cold day in hell, friends. I did it. I'm so pleased. So accomplished.

Every since he got that knock off serum, Bucky can’t get drunk, but Clint’s never had that problem.

It’s evident now, in Tony’s lounge with anyone and everyone who has ever been an Avenger or a friend of an Avenger, a karaoke machine in the corner. Anyone susceptible to alcohol has had too much and Clint has perhaps had more than anybody else.

He’s clutching the mic stand, crooning a Bryan Adams song, his eyelids heavy and mouth over-enunciating every word. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is standing up in spikes from the many, many times he’s run his fingers through it as he’d gyrated his hips and tried to make his performance sexy, like he honestly thinks he’s gotta put the effort in.

Bucky’s in the back of the room, tucked up against the bar, leaning back on his elbow and lazily sipping at whatever Thor gave him to “take the edge off” and he’s actually feeling it in a soft, hazy sort of buzz. It’s nice.

Bucky’s not sure what song this is. He missed huge chunks of pop culture in the 80s and 90s. Apparently Bryan Adams’ discography was not important information for a brainwashed assassin.

But Clint’s got his hip cocked and his eyes shining and Bucky never gave a fuck about Bryan Adams, but he thinks maybe, now’s a good time to start.

“He’s gonna be feeling this tomorrow,” Steve says, sidling up to lean beside Bucky, tipping his beer at Clint and looking fond and relaxed. It’s a good look on him.

“Probably,” Bucky says, easy. “Nothing an advil won’t fix. Maybe pancakes.”

Steve clinks his beer against Bucky’s glass in solidarity because there’s a lot of shit that happened because of the serum, but the lack of hangovers is always going to be a positive.

The song ends with a power ballad piano chord and Clint doesn’t hit the last note, or any of the half a dozen before it, but Bucky doesn’t give a shit and neither do the rest of the people in the room who clap and hoot and cat call and Clint’s face lights up with a sloppy grin.

“Guys,” he says into the mic, leaning too close. “Guys, guys, I need to -- hold on.”

He climbs on the coffee table, and Bucky sighs, setting his drink aside and pushing himself up. Clint’s not the most graceful at the best of times -- unless he’s got his bow in his hands -- and Bucky’s going to have to catch him before he falls and cracks his head open again.

“Guys,” Clint says, hands up like he’s giving a benediction. He’s uncharacteristically solemn, especially for being as drunk as he is, and people actually shut up to listen. Someone turns off the music. It’s a whole scene and Clint’s standing a foot and a half above everyone else, swaying on the table, as Bucky makes his way through the crowd to catch him.

“Guys,” Clint says, letting his hands fall. “I just. I need to tell you something and it’s super important and I’ve never said this before so I need you to listen, okay?” He’s lisping, slurring a little bit, and Bucky fucking loves him.

It’s embarrassing how much he loves him.

“You okay, Barton?” Tony asks, and Clint’s eyes brighten.

“Tony,” he says, pointing at him with a fond and sloppy grin. “Tony, I’m good. I’m so good. I just need -- I need to tell you all that I’m gay.” He lets his hand fall again with a shrug. “I’m gay, guys. I’m so, so gay. I’m just -- I was always gay, but now I’m especially gay. Because of Bucky Barnes. Bucky -- where’s Bucky? Bucky, I need to tell you, I’m in love with you. Because you’re the hottest. And the sweetest. Like a marshmallow. I don’t even -- no one knows, but I know, and I need you to -- Oh.”

It’s all the warning Bucky gets before Clint loses his balance, tumbling off the table in a mess of limbs, and of course Bucky catches him, cradling him close against his chest in a bridal carry.

“Oh,” Clint says again, brightening with a crooked grin. “Oh, Bucky, there you are. I’m gay, Bucky. I’m super gay for you.”

“I know,” Bucky says, trying to keep it gruff but he doesn’t quite manage it.

Clint lets his head fall against Bucky’s shoulder, twisting a hand in Bucky’s shirt, and says, “No, you have to believe me. We should -- we should get married, Buck.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, holding him more tightly and making his way to the elevator. “Tomorrow, when you’re sober.”

“I mean it,” Clint says, earnest and sweet and also drifting a little. He’ll be passed out before Bucky gets him to bed, probably.

Natasha hits the elevator button before he gets there and Bucky appreciates it so much because he’s only got two hands -- and one of them isn’t even really his -- and he wasn’t sure how he was gonna manage it.

“He forgot you guys were already married again, didn’t he?” she teases.

Bucky rolls his eyes and Clint’s probably already out, judging by the snoring.

“I’ll remind him in the morning.”

Clint drools on his neck a little bit on the way to their room and Bucky closes his eyes and holds him tight and has no regrets.


End file.
